


Sanctuary

by ajkal2



Category: Church (Short Film 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajkal2/pseuds/ajkal2
Summary: “Why,” Sanga said, and Ashivon smiled at the pout in her voice, “did you have to go and get your back all torn up again?” She pressed the fabric into one of the deepest cuts, the back of his right shoulder.“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he answered softly. One of his ears flicked in discomfort as Sanga pressed harder. “I’ll try my best not to do it again.”----This fic was inspired by ToastyHat's amazing animatic, go watch it, it's amazing. Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0s0E_WsqvQNow you have no excuse for not seeing this incredible work of art.





	Sanctuary

The house was barely standing. Age had rotted it’s beams, chipped the paint that remained on it’s walls. The branches of an olive tree, gnarled and knotted, grew around a corner of the room. Through them, the moonlight cast curling, twisted shadows. The child sat under the tree, knees held to his chest, looking upward. 

Ashivon crouched on the pads of his feet, one hand’s claws lightly touching the floor to keep his balance. Behind him, Sanga cursed softly, tearing more fabric from the base of her shirt. 

“Why,” she said, and he smiled at the pout in her voice, “did you have to go and get your back all torn up again?” She pressed the fabric into one of the deepest cuts, the back of his right shoulder. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he answered softly. One of his ears flicked in discomfort as Sanga pressed harder. “I’ll try my best not to do it again.” 

“You better not, mister,” Sanga said, wrapping something around and over his chest, to hold the cloth in place. “I  _ just  _ healed you up, and you go and get the same wounds within a twonight. I’m starting to feel useless, over here.” 

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Ashivon replied. His head tilted gently to one side, letting her arm pass over his shoulder to secure the cloth. “You’re the only one of us that’s useful. Without you, we’d be lost.” 

Sanga grumbled wordlessly, smacking the side of his head. The blow was barely a tap, but Ashivon shied smoothly away, shoulders arcing in. 

His heartbeat was loud in his ears. He relaxed again in sections, the backs of his feet dropping to the floor, his claws uncurling. He leant backward, into Sanga’s hands, and she rubbed a thumb up and down the back of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t think. My sisters... I- I always...” 

More sections relaxed, the fur on his back shifting to lie flat. “It’s alright,” he whispered back. “It’s- I don’t want you to have to think.” Her hand meandered up into his hair, fingers scratching soothing circles across the back of his head. He tilted his head back, into the pressure. 

In the corner, the child changed position, rising onto his knees. He tilted his head, attention fixed on something outside. Ashivon’s ears pricked, scanning, but there was no sound. The night was peaceful.

Sanga tucked the end of the makeshift bandage into one of it’s folds. “You two would be perfectly fine without me,” she said, picking up the end of their conversation. “I’m the one who got us into this mess.” She stated it like a fact, and Ashivon frowned. 

“You saved my life,” he said, questioning. 

“No, not- Earlier. I healed you. If I’d waited-” 

“If you’d waited, we’d still be there.” Ashivon said. He swallowed, a lump caught in his throat. “We’d... still be there.”

Sanga fell silent. She tore another piece from her shirt, pressed it against another of his cuts. Her fingers, spread over the cloth, covered the silvered lines of healed scars, layers upon layers. Ashivon watched as the child inched backward until he was lying on his belly, reaching his finger out to let an insect crawl across it. He giggled, tail flicking with delight. Ashivon smiled. 

“I don’t have enough cloth for all these cuts,” Sanga said. “You had to wait until I lost my Channel, didn’t you?” She forced lightness back into her voice. 

“They’ll heal.” Ashivon said, replying in kind. “I’m tough.” 

“Sure you are.” Sanga said, wrapping more fabric over his torso. 

“I am,” Ashivon said, squaring his shoulders.  

“You’re a big softie,” and the smile was back in Sanga’s voice. 

“No, I’m not,” Ashivon said, his own smile growing.  

“Oh yes you are.” Sanga replied. “You’re looking at the kid with moon-stung eyes, you liar.” 

The kid was nose-to-nose with a lizard, frozen still apart from the end of his tail twitching back and forth. “Can you blame me?” Ashivon asked warmly. 

Sanga considered it for a moment, her hands tucking the end of the bandage away. “No,” she said. “Not at all. You should go talk to him.” 

Ashivon’s ears flicked backward. “You’re not done wrapping me up,” he said. 

Sanga pushed lightly at the back of one of his shoulders, careful of his cuts. “You’re tough. You’ll be fine.”

Ashivon looked back over his shoulder. There was a playful glint in Sanga’s eyes. She was wearing one of his favourite smiles; The corners of her lips just slightly raised, one side more than the other.

“That is not fair,” he told her. She giggled, her eyes crinkling, falling into another of his favourite smiles. Come to think of it, all of her smiles were his favourites. 

He leant forward, and pressed his lips against her cheek. Her hand came up to clutch at the back of his head, fingers brushing against the base of his horn. She pressed lightly, keeping him against her. He turned his head, nuzzling into her soft skin. Then she let go, and he rose slightly, leaving her kneeling on the floor. He studied the planes of her face, the soft brown waves of her hair. 

“Staring is rude, you know,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “Go talk to him.” 

Ashivon bent back down to press another kiss to her cheek, lightly, then tore himself away from her, padding gently across the small room. 

The lizard had scuttled away. The child was looking outward again, through the branches. He looked up as Ashivon came closer. His head tilted, red eyes glinting in the low light.

“Hello,” Ashivon said, folding down onto his knees. He was struck by the realisation he had no idea what to say next. 

“Hello,” the child echoed, his eyes wide. He pushed himself off the floor, sliding to his knees. His tail flicked around to rest in front of him. 

“My name is Ashivon,” Ashivon said. They might as well start with introductions.

The child’s head tilted to one side, his eyes flashing in the low light. “What’s a name?” he asked. 

Ashivon’s tail flicked in surprise. He opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking. “A name,” he said, “Is a special word, one that means a specific person. If you want to refer to me, or catch my attention, you would say my name.” 

“Ashivon,” the child said. 

“That’s right,” Ashivon said, awkward. 

“Do I have one? A name?” the child asked, leaning forward slightly. 

Ashivon frowned. “I… don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

The child deflated a little. “Okay,” he said.

“We can try to come up with one for you, if you’d like,” Ashivon offered, and the child’s eyes flicked up at him, considering.

“Can I pick?” the child asked. 

“Of course,” Ashivon said, and the child lit up, a smile stretching across his small face. His fangs were barely bigger than the rest of his teeth. Ashivon smiled back, keeping his mouth closed. “Any ideas?” 

The child’s brow furrowed. “Ashivon?” 

Ashivon laughed, shaking his head. “No, that one’s mine.” 

The child pouted, curling his knees to his chest. “Why can’t we share?”

Ashivon shook his head again. “It would be too confusing.” 

The child pursed his lips, looking away though the branches of the olive tree. “I don’t know what names are meant to be like,” he admitted. 

Ashivon shifted, sprawling onto his side. “Names don’t have to be similar to anything,” he said. “You can name yourself whatever you choose.” 

The child rested his chin on his knees, thinking. “What’s the word for that?” he said, pointing to the tree. 

Ashivon glanced to the tree, it’s silvery leaves swaying in the dry air. “It’s an olive tree,” he said. “They grow around here. In the fall, small fruit grows on them. It is used to make oil.” He smiled at the tree. Sanga had told him about olives, sitting cross-legged outside his cell. Her face had screwed up in lots of funny expressions, trying to describe their taste.   

“No, not the tree,” the child said, pointing again. “That. The dots.” 

Ashivon leant forward, peering through the twisted branches. The moonlight shone over the desert, illuminating the track that wound past this shack. The land was barren, the beginnings of dunes softly rising and falling, and above them...

A lump formed in Ashivon’s throat. “Those are stars,” he said softly. “They are in patterns, called constellations.” 

The child shuffled closer to the tree, looking out. “I don’t see the patterns,” he said, curious. 

“The moon is very bright. It hides some of them. Ashivon shifted position, trying to get a clearer view upward. “There, you see the three in the line?”

The child looked to where Ashivon pointed. “Yeah, I see it!”

“That is the arrow that killed Kirana the Mighty.” Ashivon moved his finger, tracing the shape. “She was a warrior, and she kept on fighting with the arrow sticking right through her. The Goddess was so impressed with her skill that, once she fell, she placed him in the stars.” 

“Wow,” the child breathed. Ashivon looked down at him, and realised, suddenly, how close they were to each other. “Can that be my name? Kirana?” 

“The male version is Kiran,” Ashivon said. The fur on his arm was brushing against Ashivon’s knee. He was so small. “How about that?” 

The child nodded sharply. “Kiran. I like that.” 

“Well, then that shall be your name,” Ashivon said. He remembered, suddenly, how he’d held the child- held Kiran, when they were running. The warmth, the thud-thud-thud of his heart. The way his head tucked against Ashivon’s shoulder, blocking out everything else that was happening. He reached out, slowly, and smoothed a hand over Kiran’s head, between his horns. 

Kiran leant into the touch, looking up past Ashivon. “Tell me more constellations,” he said. 

“Sanga knows them better than me,” Ashivon said, twisting to call to her. 

A small hand caught his arm, and he stopped mid-turn. “Can you tell me?” Kiran asked, “I like the way you explain things.” 

Ashivon’s heart softened. He settled back next to Kiran, who wiggled closer, underneath his arm. “Of course,” Ashivon said softly. He lowered his arm, holding Kiran close. 

They wouldn’t have him. The thought flared in Ashivon, just as powerful as the first time. They wouldn’t have this little one. No cages, no executions, no brand. None of it. Not for him. 

Ashivon took a deep breath. Kiran looked up at him, expectant. Ashivon looked up, at the stars, and started talking. 


End file.
